


I Wanna Get Freaky (On Camera)

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Lingerie, Sexting, Video Calling, You get the idea, just straight up smut lads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27266647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ingrid receives one too many pictures from Sylvain and begins to get suspicious.
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 50





	I Wanna Get Freaky (On Camera)

**Author's Note:**

> I've never managed to finish smut before without getting too embarrassed so read this fast bc I'll probably delete it in a few days.

_11:42am_

_Sylvain: {IMAGE}  
  
Sylvain: how do I unsend something_

_Sylvain: Ingrid don’t open it_

_Sylvain: Ingrid don’t look at your phone please  
  
Sylvain: Don’t open it_

_Ingrid: Too late_

_Sylvain: …sorry_

_Ingrid: Why_

_Sylvain: I didn’t mean to send it to you_

_Ingrid: I hope the person you were trying to send it to wanted to see it._

_Sylvain: She did, I think. I mean she asked, so._

_Sylvain: You’ve seen it before though_

_Ingrid: Unfortunately_

_Sylvain: Just delete it. Sorry again!_

_3:19pm_

_Ingrid: I’ve seen worse you know_

_Sylvain: wh_

_Sylvain: What_

_Ingrid: I’ve seen worse dick pics._

_Sylvain: I’m going to take that as a compliment_

_Ingrid: It had good lighting._

_Sylvain: You didn’t delete it?!?!?!?!_

_Ingrid: Oh no I did. Some images are just hard to get out of your mind_

_Sylvain: I hope you mean that in a good way ;)_

_Ingrid: I’m going to beat the shit out of you the next time I see you._

* * *

Lying on the floor of Mercedes’s room is one of Ingrid’s favourite activities. Annette often joins her while they wait for Mercedes to finish doing whatever she’s doing. Today they’re waiting on a loaf of bread, the smell wafting up through the floorboards. Ingrid’s mouth is watering at the prospect of warm bread fresh out of the oven.

“Has anyone ever…” Ingrid begins to ask Annette, before promptly shutting her mouth.

“Has anyone ever what?”  
  
“Never mind.”  
  
“No! You can’t do that to me!” Annette complains, pushing Ingrid until she rolls away from her. “I’m invested now, you have to finish the question.”  
  
“Has anyone ever accidentally sent you pictures? You know, of… themselves.”  
  
“Never accidentally, I don’t think. On purpose, yes,” Annette says, pulling a face of disgust that is more or less the reaction that Ingrid felt all the times she’s opened dating apps to see unsolicited dick pics. “Why, did you send someone something accidentally?”  
  
“No! No, I’m not that stupid. No, I got an accidental picture from someone, and… oh it was weird, Annette. It was like… a good picture.”  
  
“Did it turn you on?” She asks, her eyes lit up by the prospect of finding out information on Ingrid’s sex life. She was always so gated about it, and neither Mercedes nor Annette had ever been able to find out the extent to which Ingrid was actually sexually active.

“A bit,” Ingrid admits, covering her face in her hands.

“Ingrid turned on by a dick pic?” Mercedes asks with a laugh as she enters the room, setting down a plate of warm bread in front of the other two girls. “What is the world coming to?”

“Are you going to tell us who it was from?” Annette asks, sitting upright to reach for the bread. Ingrid gets there first, and stuffs a piece of bread in her mouth while she decides what her answer will be.

“Sylvain,” she mumbles eventually. It’s embarrassing, to say the least, but neither Mercedes nor Annette look surprised by the answer.

“Oh, that was hardly an accident,” Mercedes says, chewing on the crust of her bread.

“What?” Ingrid splutters, almost choking on crumbs.

“He’s smitten with you. Anyone can see it, if they look hard enough. Though, sending you pictures is perhaps an odd way to show his affection.”  
  
“He just wanted to show off his dick,” Ingrid grumbles. “Which I _have_ seen before, because that man has no sense of privacy or decency or… any sense, really. And I’ve known him for all twenty-three years that I’ve been alive.”

“I agree with Mercie,” Annette says, nodding sagely. “He definitely likes you. And it’s a very Sylvain move, you have to admit. _And_ , you said you were turned on! Which can only mean one thing: you like him back.”

“Don’t read too much into it.”  
  
“I was told you used to have a crush on him,” Mercedes says, her expression teasing as she evaluates Ingrid, cross-legged on her bedroom floor.

“Yeah, years ago. Not anymore.”  
  
“Hm,” Mercedes hums. “Keep us updated! I’d love to know where this is going.”  
  
“It’s not going anywhere,” Ingrid protests.

The worst part is, she’s not even sure if that’s true.

* * *

_7.04pm_

_Sylvain: onlyfans.com/gautier_

_Ingrid: what_

_Sylvain: oh my god_

_Sylvain: don’t click on the link_

_Sylvain: at least this time you can’t see anything unless you pay_

_Ingrid: how long have you been doing that?  
  
Sylvain: couple of months? Decent money_

_Ingrid: how come I didn’t hear about this_

_Sylvain: didn’t think you’d approve_

_Sylvain: anyway, didn’t mean to send it to you. Just ignore it and move on._

_Ingrid: I have enough images of you burned into my retina, thank you very much_

_Sylvain: hey, I said I was sorry about that!_

_Ingrid: I know. Just teasing_

* * *

Hanging out with Felix has always been a strange experience. While Ingrid gets along well with him, he has moods where he goes between anti-social and… well, whatever normal for Felix is. The only thing on Ingrid’s mind lately is Felix’s flatmate, and she’s glad that he’s out for the day.

They curl up on the sofa, switch controllers in their hands, ready to play Mario Kart until the other person admits defeat. They’re both as competitive as the other, and relentless in their pursuit of victory. Ingrid refuses to play as anyone other than Yoshi, and Felix’s insistence on Gold Mario being the best character in the game is only outweighed by Ingrid’s insistence that there is no best character, and Felix’s rebuttal that she just sucks.

“Are you going to admit that I don’t suck?” Ingrid asks as Yoshi zooms past Gold Mario thanks to a last-minute power mushroom.

“You’re cheating,” Felix huffs, but he extends his hand anyway. “Weird playing without Sylvain, though.”  
  
“Where is he anyway?” Ingrid asks, chewing on the inside of her cheek. The prospect of seeing Sylvain at all makes her nervous.

“Working. He’s a photographer for a wedding company downtown now, apparently. I googled it to make sure he wasn’t lying, because you know what he’s like. But yeah, photographer. His watermark is on all their photos, and there’s a headshot of him on their website.”  
  
“Fair enough. I’m glad he’s got a proper job.”

“Keeps him busy, at least. I haven’t had to hear anyone moaning his name through the walls for months now, which can only be a blessing.”  
  
“Seriously? Sylvain, not hooking up with anyone? The world must be ending,” Ingrid jokes, but her brain kicks into overdrive. If Sylvain wasn’t bringing anyone back to the apartment, did that mean that Mercie was right? Of course, there was always the chance that he was going out, but Ingrid has heard horror stories from Felix over the years of how Sylvain _loves_ to bring people to his place.

“I’m not complaining,” Felix says with a sigh. “He’s home every night before midnight, makes dinner when he’s not working… if I didn’t know any better I’d think that he was trying to apologise for something.”  
  
“Weird,” Ingrid muses. “Though I suppose Sylvain’s behaviour has always been all over the place. It’s just how he is.”  
  
“You’re right, unfortunately.”

“Another round? I’m not going to let you win, though.”  
  
“Fine. You don’t stand a chance.”

* * *

_8:50pm_

_Sylvain: {IMAGE}  
  
Sylvain: How many times is this going to happen_

_Sylvain: Good evening, Ingrid_

_Ingrid: At least it’s not your dick this time_

_Sylvain: my abs are a lot more safe for work ;)_

_Ingrid: Still don’t want them in my texts. Consider your thirst trap deleted._

_Sylvain: Aw :(_

_Sylvain: The girl I’m trying to send these too is called Imogen. Your name is directly after hers in my phone registry and that’s why I keep sending all this to you._

_Ingrid: Maybe put an emoji in front of her name so it moves her away from me, then_

_Sylvain: Solid idea_

_Sylvain: Sorry again_

* * *

“See?” Ingrid says, pointing at her phone. The text lights up her screen as she points out the pictures to Annette and Mercedes, who merely giggles.

“Those are nice abs,” Annette admits.

“That’s _not the point_ ,” Ingrid says. “You know, Mercedes, I’m starting to believe you! First the dick pic, then the only fans link, then the shirtless mirror pic… and who selects who they’re sending messages to through contacts anyway? Surely you would just go through your sent messages.”  
  
“I told you,” Mercedes says wisely. “Sylvain is trying to get your attention. And as far as I’m concerned, he’s got it. You do seem quite… worked up about this.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Ingrid laments. “He’s been my friend forever. Yes, okay, I admit it, I really like him, and I think he’s really hot, and the things he’s been “accidentally” been sending me are also really hot. But he’s my _friend_! What if this really is an accident and I make him uncomfortable by hitting on him?”  
  
“You said it yourself, Ingrid, Sylvain has no shame. He’ll either laugh it off or politely tell you you’ve made a mistake if you get it wrong,” Annette says, stuffing another one of Mercedes’s chocolate doughballs into her mouth.

“I have an idea,” Mercedes says, eyes glinting with mischief. “He’s been getting you all worked up, so why don’t you… try your hand at getting him back?”

“What do you mean?” Ingrid asks, narrowing her eyes at the older woman.

“I mean, send him a picture by accident.”  
  
“I am not showing Sylvain my tits if I don’t know he actually likes me,” Ingrid says, mortified by the prospect.

“Just lingerie, dear. Nothing that he won’t have seen before at the beach, or whatever. Act embarrassed, and see how he responds.”

“I can’t do that,” Ingrid says. She’s tried taking nudes for partners in the past, and it’s all felt horribly awkward and not a process that she really wants to repeat.

“Subscribe to his only fans!” Annette suggests, and Ingrid pauses for a moment to consider this.

She pulls her phone from her pocket, and scrolls back up through her texts with Sylvain, most of which are mercifully safe for work and about meeting with Dimitri and Felix for coffee, and occasionally Ingrid checking in on Sylvain if she hasn’t heard from him in a few days. There is where she finds the link, and clicks through to the page.

His profile picture is his face, thankfully, winking at the camera. His bio is short and sweet – he’s a photographer, he’s twenty-six, he’s here for a good time not a long time. There’s a sale on, and Ingrid briefly wonders if spending ten dollars for a month of seeing Sylvain is worth it. But even if he doesn’t like her the way she suspects he might, this is still going to make for prime teasing material, so Ingrid hits subscribe, and watches as Sylvain’s page unblurs to her.

“Ah,” Mercedes says, her face paling, “now we’ve all seen Sylvain’s dick.”

* * *

_9:22am_

_Sylvain: Ingrid Brandl Galatea_

_Sylvain: I am giving you your ten dollars back_

_Ingrid: You literally sent me a link to subscribe, so I did_

_Ingrid: Helping out a friend in need_

_Sylvain: It’s embarrassing!  
  
Sylvain: My whole body is on there!  
  
Ingrid: I know. I’ve seen it._

_Sylvain: Ingrid_

_Sylvain: Did you watch the videos_

_Ingrid: Not yet_

_Sylvain: Please don’t_

_Ingrid: I’m intrigued now. Are they sexy or straight up porn?  
  
Sylvain: Uh_

_Ingrid: Both?  
  
Sylvain: yeah_

_Sylvain: Look, I’ll give you your money back and we’ll never speak of this again_

_Ingrid: It’s okay. I won’t watch the videos_

_Ingrid: The photos are good though_

_Sylvain: h_

_Sylvain: I can send you the pictures for free anytime ;)_

_Ingrid: You do that anyway_

* * *

“What do I do about this?” Sylvain asks, holding a coffee cup in one shaky hand and a half-eaten muffin in the other.

“You got yourself into this mess by sending her dick pics to flirt with her,” Claude says, loud enough for other people in the café to hear and turn their nose up at him.

“I think it’s working, though. She’s… I don’t know, she says stuff all differently in the texts, and I don’t know how to feel about that.”  
  
“You should feel good, if it’s what you want,” Claude laughs.

“It is. I like her a lot, but I can’t tell her because we’ve been friends forever and it… it would be weird to be like I love you at this point.”  
  
“But sending her dick pics is more normal?”  
  
“Honestly, yeah. She didn’t seem that weirded out by it, but I know if I said to her, hey Ingrid, I am in love with you and have been for quite some time, she’d run a mile.”

“I think you’re going to have to tell her at some point. You can’t keep doing stupid stuff like this all the time, she’ll just get creeped out and block your number or something.”  
  
“Fine,” Sylvain sighs. “Next time I see her in person, I will…”  
  
“Ask her out, on a date,” Claude suggests. “She’ll get the picture, Ingrid’s smart.”  
  
“Do you think she’ll say yes?”  
  
“Probably, if the flirting back is anything to go by.”

“What if she watches the videos?” Sylvain asks, mortified about what Ingrid might think of him if she saw them.

“Ingrid keeps her word. She won’t. And if she does… she’s hardly going to want to give up on all of that.”

Claude cackles, and leaves Sylvain alone to ponder whether he’s actually making the right decision.

* * *

_9:58pm_

_Ingrid: {IMAGE}  
  
Ingrid: Oh my god_

_Ingrid: Didn’t mean to send that to you_

_Ingrid: Pretend you didn’t see it_

_Sylvain: Pretend I didn’t see a goddess in front of me? In a teal lacy bodysuit? Hot damn Ingrid who were you trying to send that to?  
  
Ingrid: None of your business_

_Sylvain: Have you got a secret boyfriend on the side?  
  
Ingrid: No_

_Sylvain: You know, I don’t even care, because I’m enjoying this picture a lot_

_Ingrid: Really?  
  
_ Sylvain stares at the picture on his phone. Ingrid’s hair barely brushes the tops of her shoulders, drawing his eye along the lace, tight across her chest, wiring holding up breasts that Ingrid had clearly never bothered to accentuate before. Her waist is slim thanks to years of sports as a child, her arms and legs toned. One hand rests on her hip, the other holding her phone, her head cut off from the chin up. The photo is doing things to him that feel wholly inappropriate – Ingrid is his best friend, and yes, he might be in love with her, but getting himself off to a picture of her is the worst thing that he can imagine.

_Ingrid: How much are you enjoying it?_

How much? What does she mean by that? Surely she’s joking. Unless she didn’t send the picture by accident, just like he hadn’t sent all those other string of pictures to her by accident.

_Sylvain: A whole lot. You don’t know what seeing you like that is doing to me._

_Ingrid: What am I doing to you?  
  
_ Sylvain flops back on his bed, his heart beating a mile a minute. This is _definitely_ on purpose. Even Ingrid isn’t dense enough to not realise the weight of her words. So Sylvain does what he knows best – photography. He sets up a light above him, turns off the main light in the room. He discards his t-shirt to one side of his bed and unzips his jeans, and presses record on his phone.

One hand trails down his chest, and moves his jeans aside to reveal the boxers underneath. He lifts his hips to move the jeans down, and carefully palms his cock through his underwear. He’s sure to make sound for her, emphasising how even that one picture of her has him half hard.

“This is what you’re doing to me, Ingrid,” he says, voice husky, before he turns the camera off and sends it to her.

_Ingrid: God_

_Ingrid: I wish you were here right now_

_Sylvain: You don’t know how much I’ve wanted you to say something like that_

_Sylvain: But I need to take care of this_

_Ingrid: I need someone to take care of me_

_Ingrid: Because after that, I’m really wet_

_Ingrid: sorry that sounds so awkward_

_Sylvain: No, it’s really hot. Keep going_

_Ingrid: I wish you were in my bed. I have a whole lot I’d like to do to you._

_Sylvain: What would you do?  
  
Ingrid: I’d push those boxers down, for a start. I need to see you._

_Ingrid: Then I’d grab that cock in my hand and stroke you_

_Ingrid: Are you stroking yourself?_

_Sylvain: {VIDEO}_

_Ingrid: Good_

_Ingrid: Then I’d lie you down on my bed and crawl on top of you_

_Sylvain: Can you take your lingerie off first? I feel we’re uneven here_

_Ingrid: In good time_

_Ingrid: I don’t think I’d let you come right away, even while I was sucking your cock_

_Ingrid: Maybe I’d sit on your face?  
  
Sylvain: I can’t think of anything I’d like more than that_

_Ingrid: {IMAGE}  
  
Ingrid: I think you’ve earned that_

_Sylvain: You have the nicest tits out of any girl I’ve ever met_

_I_ _ngrid: Flatterer_

_Ingrid: You’re making it so easy for me to put my fingers inside me right now_

Sylvain drops his phone onto his chest at that, a loud moan escaping from him without much thought. His grip on his cock tightens slightly, finding himself close to his release. But there’s something he wants more than that – to see Ingrid come to her peak. He exits the messages, and presses the video call option. Thankfully, Ingrid picks up right away, and he can see her lying down in her dimly lit room, hair all tousled. The bodysuit is pushed down around her waist, leaving her breasts exposed to the air. Sylvain clocks that her nipples are hard, peaking in the chilly air.

“Should I set my phone somewhere?” She asks nervously. “I’ve never done something like this before.”

“No,” Sylvain says breathlessly, “I want to see your face.”  
  
“Do you not want to see the rest of me?” Ingrid responds, her eyes lidded as she stares into the camera. She’s well aware of the effect she’s having on him, and that makes it even better for him.

“I’d like to save it for when I see you in person.”

“Alright. Where were we?”  
  
“I think you had your fingers inside you,” Sylvain reminds her.  
  
“Oh yes. Well, I could use my fingers, or…” Ingrid moves out of view of the camera for a second, reaching to her bedside table. This is where she’s thankful she lives alone. “Is Felix there?”  
  
“We are having FaceTime sex and you’re asking about my roommate?”  
  
“Is he?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Good. I want you to make noise for me, Sylvain.”  
  
Into view of the camera Ingrid brings a glass dildo, ribbed along the length, entirely clear. Sylvain stutters over his next words as she runs her tongue along it, and he imagines that it’s his cock that she’s doing that to, not just some artificial thing.

“I’m going to put this in me. Then… we can begin.”

There’s a shuffling of fabric as Ingrid removes the body suit entirely, and spreads her legs wide enough to get the dildo inside her up to the hilt.  
  
“I’m ready,” she murmurs, and he bucks into his hand.

“I’m going to turn my camera so you can keep pace. I’ll turn back when I’m going to cum.”  
  
“No way,” Ingrid says, “I want to see that. I paid ten dollars for videos, right?”  
  
“You’re ridiculous.”  
  
He flips the camera, and sets the pace for her. He can see her face on his screen, head tilting back, eyes scrunching up, a smile on her face as she chases her orgasm. Even more titillating is the sound of her thrusting the dildo into herself, the slick sound going straight to his cock, encouraging him to pick up his own pace. As he does, rubbing his hand up and down his cock, Ingrid’s own pace picks up, and he can hear her moan, one hand reaching up to grab the top of her headboard.

“Sylvain, I’m close,” she mumbles, the other hand falling back down. “Oh, and since you can’t see, I’m rubbing my clit now…”  
  
“You’re going to be the death of me, Ingrid. But I’m close too.”

It doesn’t take much more for him to cum, spurting white seed onto his chest as he falls backwards onto his bed, flipping his camera again so Ingrid can see the mess she’s created. There isn’t much time between them, and Ingrid crests with a loud moan that verges on a scream, and Sylvain sets that aside in his head for when he sees her in person.

They catch their breath in silence, staring at each other through the camera. Sylvain grins at her, and she rolls her eyes. She shifts about a little, removing the glass penis from her and running her tongue along it once again, collecting her juices from it with a pointed smile.

“I was going to ask you out on a date,” he admits. “I really wanted to make a proper go of this. But…”  
  
“But what? I think we should go on a date.”  
  
“Fine by me. I’ll pick you up at six?”  
  
“I’ll be ready for that and anything to come after.”  
  
“Good night, Ingrid. I’m just warning you; I’ll probably rub another one out thinking of you before I sleep.”  
  
“And same to you, Sylvain. Don’t stay up too late.”  
  
She hangs up with a wave, and Sylvain can practically feel his dick hardening again that second. It’s going to be a long wait to see Ingrid, when all he can think about is how he wants to press her up against a wall and fuck her until she can’t walk anymore.

* * *

“Good evening, Madame Galatea,” Sylvain offers, watching Ingrid emerge from her apartment building.

“Good evening, Sir Gautier. Where are you taking me this evening?”  
  
She’s not dressed up at all – Sylvain wouldn’t expect anything else. Her usual winter jeans, jumper, boots and coat combination is still enough for him.

“Dinner, and then we’ll see where we go from there.”  
  
The restaurant he takes her to is different than the usual one he brings his dates to. The waiters here don’t know his name, but they seem to know Ingrid and her appetite. He’s paying, of course, ever the true gentleman even if his final intentions with her are not so innocent.

“You know,” he begins, after their orders have been put in. “I have wanted to ask you out for a very long time. Like, an embarrassingly long amount of time.”  
  
“I… well, I’m flattered. I’m glad you asked me, too. I’ve wanted this for a long time.”  
  
“We’re both stupid, aren’t we?” Sylvain laughs.

“I can’t believe you thought sending me a dick pick was the right way to go, though. Like seriously?”  
  
“It worked!”  
  
“Only because I’m single and horny,” Ingrid admits.

“You are no longer single,” Sylvain points out.  
  
“Oh, are you asking me out?”

“Yes, I very much am asking you out, because I think you’re hot. And also, you know, because we’ve been friends for years.”  
  
“Well, I accept your invitation of courtship, because I also think you’re hot. Which has nothing to do with the fact that I know you better than anyone else or anything.”

“Felix is in tonight,” Sylvain says, already planning the rest of the evening post dinner.

“I suppose you’ll have to drop me at my place, then,” Ingrid says, that sultry look from the night before returning. “Maybe you can come in for a drink.”  
  
“We should skip dessert,” Sylvain suggests.

“Yes, I think so too.”

* * *

The drive back to the apartment complex is silent. Ingrid’s hands rest on her lap, Sylvain’s grip the steering wheel as if he’s determined to drive in an entirely straight line to Ingrid’s place. Once they park, they walk up the stairs together, Sylvain reaching for Ingrid’s hand. They walk along the corridor. Ingrid fumbles with her keys. They enter the apartment.

Sylvain pushes Ingrid against the door as soon as it closes behind them, his mouth finding hers with an insistent kiss that leaves them both breathless. He pulls away to regard her, before continuing his machinations down her throat as she discards her coat and pushes his from his shoulders too.   
  
Her jumper is next to come off, then his, then her boots and his shoes, all the while Sylvain presses insistently up to her in the hopes of getting a reaction. And it’s working- Ingrid moans under his touch, keening into his hands whenever he presses his mouth to the corner of her neck and shoulder.

He kisses her again, his tongue sliding into her mouth, relishing in the feeling of the warmth of Ingrid’s mouth. Ingrid’s fingers deftly undo the buttons on his shirt as he backs her into the hallway wall. The fabric slides from his shoulders, and Ingrid takes the opportunity to run her hands over his chest, admiring every muscle, her fingertips ghosting across his nipple, and delighting in his change in expression.

She breaks away to pull her own top off, shivering slightly as her skin is exposed to the cold. Sylvain looks down, admiring that she has yet another lacy lingerie set on. As much as he’s keen to get it off her, it still looks nice hugging her body the way it does. As he thinks this, he finds his jeans around his ankles, and Ingrid snapping at the waist band of his underwear. Her jeans fall to the floor next, and Sylvain swoops in to lift her up, ignoring the trail of clothes from the front door.

“I think we should take this to the bedroom.”

“What a great idea.”  
  
He practically throws her down onto the bed as she laughs, but Ingrid is too fast for him, and is up again in a second, grabbing onto his shoulder, standing on her tiptoes to look him in the eye. Her other hand slowly travels south, and she presses herself up against him as she pushes his underwear to the floor.

“Did I not tell you what I was going to do?” She murmurs in his ear, relishing in how she can feel his cock harden a little more, pressed against her thigh.

As promised, she pushes him backwards. He shifts a little, his head going to the pillows – he wants to be comfy if Ingrid is going to do what she pleases. She looks up at him, he nods, and she grins back. Her hand does indeed stroke him, just like he did to himself last night. She crawls on top of him, and he can’t help but admire how the lingerie really does accentuate every inch of her body.

Her mouth is warm on the head of his cock, testing how far she’ll go. It’s not long before she’s taken his whole length in her mouth, fingers reaching around to massage his balls. Ingrid’s head bobs up and down, and Sylvain’s hands reflexively tighten in the sheets. She pops off as soon as she tastes the first hints of salty precum, and looks to him.

“Ingrid,” he moans, ready for his release. She ignores him, a pointed smile on her face.

“I suppose I’ll have to take this off, now.”  
  
“Let me,” Sylvain says, sitting upright.

Ingrid perches on his thigh, rocking back and forth, trying to get a little friction so she doesn’t go mad with desire before she has a chance to cum. Sylvain’s hands deftly undo the clasp on her bra, and it’s not long before his hands hold her breasts, massaging them, fingers twisting her nipples as she writhes at his touch.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs, pressing kisses down her abdomen and back up again, tongue flicking over her nipple just like she did to him earlier.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Ingrid laughs.   
  
“I’m already in your bed. Where else can I go?”  
  
“Lie down,” she commands, and he’s quick to comply.

She hovers there for a second, before pushing herself off his leg and onto the floor. She turns away as she takes off her panties with a little shake of her hips, and then returns her attention to him. He’s grinning, holding a hand out to her. He remembers what was next, and helps her balance above him.

“I won’t hurt you?”

“No way,” he assures her. “Just hold on to the headboard. Your legs _will_ give out.”

Ingrid lowers herself down, gasping as Sylvain’s tongue darts out to lick up her slit. His hands are steady on her hips, but she already feels like she’s going to collapse. With how wet she is, it can’t be long before she cums tonight. Sylvain’s mouth is like magic against her, licking and prodding and sucking, and then he lets go with one hand and slides a finger inside her, then two, then three, fucking her with his fingers while he sucks on her clit.

It doesn’t take long before Ingrid comes, wetting his face even more with her juices. She lowers herself onto the bed, legs shaking, and watches Sylvain carefully as he licks around his mouth. She laughs, swatting him away as he leans in for a kiss. Instead, she leans over to her bedside table, and pulls out the small packet of a condom. She flings it at Sylvain, and watches as he rolls it over his cock – something that Ingrid didn’t think would be hot until this very moment.

“Get up,” he says, and Ingrid finds herself complying now with his commands. Her feet meet the carpet of her bedroom, legs still a little shaky from her previous orgasm.

Sylvain positions himself on the edge of the bed, feet planted firmly on the floor, and Ingrid climbs into his lap, straddling him. For a moment, neither of them move, staring into each other’s eyes, content to listen to each other breathe, to feel skin against skin.

“Is this okay?” Sylvain asks.

“Of course,” Ingrid replies.

His hands are steady on her hips once again as he helps her raise herself up, and lower once again onto his cock, slow and steady. She tenses around him as she bottoms out, and he lets out a groan into her ear that has her giggling.

“Ready?”

“Fuck me already, Sylvain.”

He’s hardly going to argue with that. Ingrid holds onto his shoulders, and slides herself up. He snaps his hips up to meet her, and she moans, burying her head into his shoulder. They make quick work of setting a pace, the two working in tandem with the only goal of bringing the other to the edge.

“Ingrid,” Sylvain manages to moan out. “I’m so close.”  
  
“Then cum for me,” she says, reaching a hand down in between them to toy with her clit. “I’m close too.”  
  
The sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet sounds from Ingrid and Sylvain’s moans mix together in a cacophony of sex that Sylvain hopes he can remember. Ingrid tenses around him, her nails digging into his scalp when they find their way into his hair. With one final thrust into her, Sylvain cums, his vision blurring. He opens his eyes, and presses a kiss to Ingrid's forehead as he helps her down from her own orgasm.

It takes a few minutes before she regains enough strength in her legs to get off him, but she does, falling back onto the bed. As Sylvain disposes of the condom, he watches her rub her own orgasm around her clit, bucking into her own hand with the overstimulation.

“Go pee,” he says, and with a roll of her eyes she disappears for a few minutes. Sylvain sits on the edge of her bed once again, not sure what she really wants to happen now.

When she returns, she just walks past him, lifting her duvet from the end of the bed, where she had left it before leaving earlier on, fully aware that this was the outcome. She lays the duvet over the bed, and crawls under it. Sylvain looks at her. Ingrid looks back. Eventually, she reaches out to him, and he joins her, pulling her close.

“I can probably go again in a bit,” he whispers into her ear.

“Really?” She purrs in response. “You’ll have to keep me going until then.”  
  
“That can be arranged.”


End file.
